'Stay still, Sherlock!' Molly says as she gently places her hands at either side of Sherlock's head to steady it. The plastic gloves she has on feel unpleasant when she scrunches her hands and it occurs to her that she could've brought some much more comfortable ones home from work.
She is sat on her living room couch; Sherlock Holmes is sat on the floor in front of her, a towel around his shoulders. Even with the extra height of the sofa, his head still reaches to the top of her breasts.
'But it itches!' Sherlock complains, 'and it really, really smells.' He turns his head and wrinkles his nose at her, and he looks so much like a petulant child that she can't help but let out a short giggle. She corrects his head position once more, giving him a soft tap on the back of the head with the comb she is using for emphasis.
'I know I said it was necessary but is it really necessary?' Sherlock continues to huff, almost as if he is talking to himself.
'Sherlock, you have a very distinctive appearance, anything that helps you stay under the radar is necessary.' Molly reasons as she combs the last of the product through his now heavy hair. 'Plus it'll look good, you'll see. I've always… um.' She trails off as if remembering who she is talking to.
'You've always what?' he asks, his interest genuine for once, looking up from where he is watching the clock to see when he can get this blasted stuff out of his hair.
Oh, what the hell, she thinks, 'I've always had a thing for gingers,' she says as she walks out of the room, leaving him stunned.